Mulan
by ctkov
Summary: The story of Mulan is being rewritten, in a Dystopian world. Skylar wakes up on the day of her test that will determine who she will marry and how she will live the rest of her life. When everything goes wrong at her test and her father is conscripted to go war, Skylar decides to take the future into her own hands to change her fate and the fate of those she loves.


**Part I**

The sun light rested on my closed eyes, making the inside of my eyelids go from black to pink. Nagging me it says, "Wake up, Skylar!" I hate the morning light. I hate what I have to do once I wake up. I hate fate for dropping me into this world, my family, and my future.

* * *

"Up! Up! Up! Come on, Skylar, you have to get up. We are already behind schedule." My mother yelled frantically as she walked into the room and lit the candles beside my bed. Why does she insist on calling me Skylar? No one calls me that. Even my dad calls me Sky. "Come on Skylar. Do you honestly want to be late to the Matchmaker's, thus jeopardizing your score on the Hutching Test?"

I groaned. Two words I despise the most are the Hutching Test. As my mother would say, "The day you take the Hutching Test is the day you are presented to the public. You are not a real citizen of our great nation, Titilia, until you pass the test. All eyes will be on you. You represent your father just as he represents our town, Lajing, as our mayor. Whether or not you pass the test determines your future and who you are matched to marry." What if I don't want my life to be determined by an old stupid test? What if I want adventure instead of just marrying someone I am matched up with? What if I don't want to be stuck in a house for the rest of my life like my mother? What if I want to find the love of my life? I have no choice. In the world I live in, I am a puppet being controlled by someone else like the puppet shows I used to watch when I was a little girl. My whole life has been controlled by this test, and the only reason why is to enter "the great society of Titilia".

"Get up, Skylar!" She grumbled as she pulled the warm blankets that were keeping the early morning chill off me. I curled up into a ball in order to stay warm, but it was too late and the cool morning air enveloped me.

"Fine! I'm up," I said as I sat up in bed. My body still felt tired and I let out a cough. For as long I could remember, I have been plagued. I always struggle to breath and often cough. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and have coughing fits. My mother always said it was a punishment from "my great uncle defying the gods" when he messed up one of the town statues of the gods, but I think she just made that up so I would go to the temple with her every month.

Mother handed me my silk, pink robe and said, "You look like a mess. I thought I told you to get lots of sleep! Now you will surely lose points. Were you reading again? How would you jeopardize your grade just to read? Is reading really more important than this? You never listen to me do you?" I sighed to myself and let her continue ranting about what a terrible child I am. I've heard it too many times. I don't care if she thinks reading is a waste of my time. It's the only activity I enjoy doing now a days. "Skylar, you aren't listening are you? Come on. Follow me. We've been wasting time. The stylists have been waiting for a while now." She walked out my room and I followed her.

As we walked, her rose colored heels clanked against to floor. She looked as impeccable as she always does. She wore a long flowing pink dress that showed off her tall, willowy frame. She wore her golden hair in a tight bun. In the bun you could see little bits of gray hair building up which was one of her only signs of age. I looked nothing like her. I was short and sturdy, had thick ankles, and was built with meat on my bones. Also, unlike my mother I had thick raven black hair that fell to my waist. How does she expect me to be like her? She has gotten one of the best scores on her test ever recorded and was one of the most beautiful women of her time. She always wears high heels and never has a hair on her head out of place. If I pass the test, will I live as she does? All she does is sit in the house all day, waiting for my father to come home. Would my marriage be like theirs? I can't remember the last time I saw them kiss and they look at each other the same way they look at anyone else, not with love. It seems to me the test is only done for convenience, not for love.

She led me to one of our two spare rooms in our house where a group of five women, I assumed to be the stylists, were waiting. They all wore bright colors even though it was now late fall, but I have heard that wearing bright spring colors in the winter was now popular. The lady in the center of the group had her hair dyed pink and wore an even brighter pink dress with a rose sticking out from it, taking up about a third of the dress. I shuddered at the thought of them doing that to me.

"Thees ees Skylaa?" she said in a feather-like voice that was thick in an Aordeon, our nation's capitol, accent. "Well, wee weel keep haa look naaturaal, but wee weel haave to wuhk haad. Wee only haave a feuw hoouuurs beefoure the test and she is a meesss!"

* * *

It took them five and a half hours for them to get me ready. Five and a half hours! I did the math and that is 19,800 seconds. That means 19,800 second of being poked and prodded by people I don't even know all over my body, being in a hazy half asleep and half awake consciousness, and, worst of all, my mother fussing over me.

"Do you think the makeup is too much? We don't want her to look too old. Or you think we did not put enough on her? We don't want her to look too young." It's been like this for hours. She always has to fuss over something. I think that if she has nothing to fuss over she feels useless.

The stylists are now cleaning up their materials that are scattered all over the room. Since I'm finally not swarmed by people, I decided to take the opportunity to see what they have done to me. I walk up to the mirror, almost losing my footing on the sleek marble floor because of the high heels my feet have been stuffed into.

"Skylar! Don't you remember when I taught you how to walk with a straight back so you don't lose your balance in your heels!"

"Yes, Mother!" I straighten my back and regain my balance. When I look into the mirror I don't even recognize the young women staring back at me. Her raven black hair is tied into some sort of updo and shines as the light hits it. My skin still glowed a pale white even though they spread a cream on it the make it tan. I looked older than I usually do with my face caked with makeup. My dark eyes stood out from whatever they did to them and my already vividly red lips looked even brighter from the paste spread upon them. The dress I wore took my short thick figure and made it look tall and thin. From what I could tell the dress was two layers. The bottom layer was a dark emerald green that clung to my body. It went to my feet to my chest, but it had no straps and showed off my collar bones. The second layer was a see through and aligned with the second layer except it was it hung over my body. I don't know what my mom was thinking when she bought this dress, but I , for once in my life, felt beautiful.

"Stop looking in the mirror, Skylar! We have to go now!" My mother said as she walked out the door and I followed. After we turned a few corners in the hallways of our house, we were in the entrance of my house. I saw that my father was waiting for me in his dressing robes with most of his weight leaning on his cane. He has had that cane for as long as I could remember. During the Fourth World War two decades ago, in 4046, he was shot in the back. After having the bullet removed and miraculously surviving, he wasn't able to walk. All the treaters and healers in the country said he wouldn't ever be able to walk again, but against the odds, he is now able to walk or more like hobble. The problem is that he loses his balance frequently and falls, hurting himself often.

"Hello, Sky!" he put on a wide smile as he saw me, "Today is your day to bloom like a lily and bring your mother, the nation, and I honor as you take your Hutching test."

"I will try my best to bring you honor, Father," I tried to hide my face by looking at the ground because anyone could tell from my face that I was lying. I could feel a growing sense that something is going to go wrong today. Maybe it's just the gods playing with my feeling. I told myself as an excuse. My father smile grew another inch wider and he tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ears.

"I have been meaning to give you these," he opened his hand to reveal two gifts. He pulled the first one out which was a round, silver locket. In the middle of the locket was a tiny pearl with etchings of flowers around it. It hung from a silver chain that looked like little strings twisted together. It was beautiful, but it didn't compare to the other gift. It was a clip for the hair in the shape of an orchid. It was more than that, though. It dazzled with thousands of tiny diamonds. Some of them were clear and some of them were pink. All of them were laid in an intricate pattern that shined at every angle the sun hit it.

"Oh, Father, they are beautiful!" I wanted to reach out and take the gifts immediately, but I stopped myself.

"The necklace is from your mother and I," he said as he dropped it over my head. The chain hung all the way to my chest. Then he put the clip into my hair saying "This clip has been passed down many generations in my family, and now, I am passing it down to you. It is given whenever the oldest child enters the society of Titilia and gives the family honor. Today, I am sure you will do so so I am giving you the gift now."

"No! No! No!" My mother pulled the clip out of my hair and put it back into a better spot. "There. Much better."

"Oh, Father, thank you. I don't deserve it," I said as I picked up the necklace from my neck to inspect it.

"You deserve it. My girl deserves everything," How could he trust me with these now? What if I don't pass the test?

"We have to go now. We want to get there early. Being late may deduct points from your score, Skylar," Her voice was stringent and both my father and I knew to listen to her or else we will regret it. She walked out of the house with the sound of her heels fading behind her.

My father took my head between his hands and said, "Sky, no matter what happens during the test, I will still love you. You may not want this future of whatever the Titilia gives you, but it's the only option you have. You'll never know. You might like what this future holds for you," My jaw dropped. It is as if he knows exactly how I feel.

My father and I have always had that connection . When I was little, he would hold me during my temper tantrums. When I scraped my knee, he would put a clean it and kiss it. When I would have a coughing attack in the middle of the night, he would hold me and comfort me with the fact that it would all be over soon. When Mother yelled at me, he would tell me that she only does so to help me. Now, he is comforting me before the test and I realize I have to pass the test for him. I can't disappoint him this time

"This just doesn't feel right. I feel like I'm a beggar walking into a gala. I feel like I don't belong. I never felt like I belonged to the future that has been given to me. I want a life that's unpredictable and filled to the brim with adventure. Most importantly, though, I want to fall in love with whom I marry. Not just be matched with someone."

"Give it some more time. Just try this for your mother and I."

I blinked a few times to take away the tears gathering in my eyes. "I already decided I would do it, Father. I'll do it just for you."

"My good girl," He let go of me and walked to the carriage. I followed, making sure to stay close behind. When we were out the door, the cool, fresh fall air enveloped me. All the trees were now bare because it was the end of fall and the air stung me, bringing bumps to my skin. I was used to it, though, because I have lived in Titilia for my whole life. What was not used to it were my lungs. I started to cough in order to breathe. I told myself what I was always told to do. _Breathe slowly and deliberately Sky. _Eventually, I was able to breath normally again.

Ahead of me, the carriage was waiting with two of our fastest horses attached to it to take us to town. I once was told of machines called cars, but apparently after the third World War they stopped using anything that released chemicals into the air because it was affecting the environment enough to throw off our seasons. Now, we have spring for a month, summer for two months, fall for a month, and winter for eight months. Now to get from place to place we use horses so we can save the Earth from getting even worse than it already is. I always wondered what cars looked like and how they worked, but the government got rid of all traces that they existed.

When I finally got into the carriage, my mother rolled her eyes at me saying, "You are always taking your time. Are you?" I just ignored her comment and looked out of the window at the mountains that completely surround the country side. She eventually takes out her weekly planner and a pen and inspects and arranges my father's schedule. My father, on the other hand, sits comfortably in his black dressing gown while reading the national newspaper, _The Titilia News_. His eyebrows were furrowed together and he wore a face of concern.

"Any news concerning the barbarians, Father?" For as long as I could remember, Titilia has been fighting off the northern barbarians known as the Honlacos. I once heard only ten of them killed a hundred of our best fighters. I've always enjoy hearing the current events in the war.

"The Honlacos have managed to push through the barrier walls we set up in the east. General Shangal is leading a large group of men to fight them at Jeavi's passage. The problem at the moment is that they are starting to be low on men. It makes me wonder what they will do to get more soldiers."

I have heard that we are running low on men before. "Do you think they will start conscripting men into the army? I heard rumors of them doing that in some of the smaller towns."

"It's just a rumor, Sky. We don't know if it's true or not so we shouldn't worry. The last time Titilia drafted was the fourth World War."

"Skylar," My mother addressed me, "it is not in your place to worry about the war."

"If I am going to be a citizen of Titilia, then it is my place to worry about my country. Any way, Father, I never said we should worry about the war. We just had the Rishna Harvest and the winter season is coming. Lajing is just starting to brighten up again." Rishna Harvest is my favorite week of the year and it was only a few weeks ago. During the harvest, all the streets were decorated with streamers of all colors. The aroma of freshly baked cinnamon bread wafted through air and was handed out for free by the government. Everyone, even the poor, put on their best and brightest clothes. Girls weave Bonzo flowers into their braids because they are the last flowers we will see until eight months later. Then, the poor and the rich gather together to eat, drink, sing, compete, and, most importantly, dance.

"Thank the gods the festival is over," My mother murmurs, "We all become stupid hooligans when we celebrate the harvest." My father laughs at this.

"There is a reason why we do it, Merdiam. It was a 'tradition' set up by the government to keep people fat, happy, and united once a year and it seems to work," The way Father said this bothered me. It kills me how the government tricks us into liking the way things are by making us think we are happy.

"I think the people should be able to like their government without them having to use 'strategies' to make us happy. This isn't a game, Father."

"Oh, Sky, if only you knew enough to understand! You are only a young girl. I shouldn't have said all that, but its too late. You would only understand if you had my job as mayor." The fact is that I will never understand. I have to get married and be trapped in a house as a wife my whole life because it is my "duty as a women".

My father continues to read the newspaper and my mother stares at her planner. They don't try so hard to accept things for the way they are. They just give in to it. I have to constantly keep my feelings in to avoid causing trouble. I'm like a covered pot of boiling water. My anger is constantly rising and building up pressure, and pretty soon the pot will overflow. I sigh and turn to the window and watch the countryside slide by the window as we make our way to town.


End file.
